


Ice, Ice, Tony

by orphan_account



Series: Family: A Different Kind of Team [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Baby Peter, I know nothing about anything, I ship everything, M/M, Steve loves his picnics, Winter, super family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-03
Updated: 2014-07-03
Packaged: 2018-02-07 08:50:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1892781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony, Steve and Peter decide to go for a winter picnic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ice, Ice, Tony

**Author's Note:**

> I love Winter! :3

Steve was woken by sunlight filtering through the windows. He shivered slightly. The bedroom was slightly chilly: outside the huge windows, snowflakes were adding to the light layer already on the ground. He seemed to have fallen asleep on top of the covers, and his sleeping body had not been able to get back under. Instead, he was hopelessly tangled in the sheets. He reached out towards Tony’s side, too tired to look up.

“Over here.”

The voice came from the sitting area (take a left at the bed, past the bar).

“What time is it?” His voice was groggy.

“Mmm…Six? Seven?” Tony replied. Steve could hear the sound of cutlery on china, and smelled food.

“It is Six Forty-nine, Sir,” Jarvis corrected.

Steve sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes. Tony was seated on one of the couches. The table in front of him, which was usually hidden in the floor, was laden with food. Eggs (Scrambled, fried, poached), sausages, bacon, patties, pancakes, juice, and 4 kinds of potatoes. His mouth watered just looking at it.

“Breakfast in bed.” Tony grinned, cutting into his pancakes.

“Did you make it?” Steve joked, getting slowly off the bed.

Tony poured himself more juice. “Of course. I grew the wheat, harvested it, did…” He paused to take a sip. “Whatever people do to make pancakes…”

Steve sat down and began heaping food onto his plate. “Good for you. Peter still sleeping?”

“Probably not.” He set his glass down, and addressed Jarvis. “Peter doing anything?”

The huge screen turned on, showing a clear shot of Peter’s room. Peter lay in his crib, wearing a custom made creeper that resembled Steve’s ‘business’ suit, minus the shield. He was still fast asleep.

“Peter is still sleeping, Sir.”

“Great.” Tony waved a forkful of potatoes at the screen.  “Jarvis, switch to news.”

The screen changed, now showing a stern faced reporter saying ‘And now Gwen, with the weather’.

Steve continued to eat as the grinning weather girl exclaimed about the wonderful weather headed their way. Tony laid his fork down and relaxed, staring out the window.

“We should do something today.” Steve suggested, still eating. “Let’s take Peter someplace.”

Tony nodded. “Sure. Disney Land? Hawaii?”

Steve helped himself to more pancakes. “No, somewhere nearby. Like a park.”

“Oh.” Tony glanced at him. “Like…an amusement park? In the winter?”

“A real park, Tony. Outdoors. With grass and trees, you know.” He cut into his sixth fried egg.

Tony turned back to the window. “It’s too snowy for a picnic, and Peters too little for ice skating or sledding.”

“There’s more to winter than sledding, Tony. First snowfall! This is a big thing!”

“We had snow last year.” Tony yawned.

Steve was about to retort, but Jarvis interrupted.

“Peter is awake, Sir.”

“Keep him occupied, Jarvis.” Tony said, standing. “I’ll get him. If it means so much to you, we can take him to a park.”

Steve smiled, setting down his knife and fork, and caught Tony’s arm.

“Thanks.”

Tony bent down and kissed him. “Hey, you know best.”

Together they headed down to the nursery. Peter was sitting up in his crib, playing with a few of the toys that Jarvis had deposited into the crib. He popped up as soon as he saw his dads, clinging to the bars of the crib and gabbling in baby talk. Steve scooped him up and tickled his belly, then carried him to the changing station. Tony headed for the closet.

“Did the winter clothes we ordered for him arrive?” Tony asked, glancing over the labels on the drawers.

“They came yesterday. In the back.” Steve instructed, trying to keep the squirmy toddler on the change table.

“Oh, here they are. Blue, Red, Green, Orange, and Yellow. Hey, didn’t we order a white one?” Tony asked, examining the little snowsuits.

“I think we decided that five was enough.” Steve reminded, wrapping Peter in a fresh diaper. Tony emerged from the closet, arms full with his choice of black pants, a white shirt, warm socks, mittens, a hat, and the blue snowsuit. He deposited them next to Steve and smiled down at Peter.

“Tony, this isn’t a photo shoot. Grab some jeans.” He tossed the pants back to Tony.

“Fine.” Tony caught the pants. “And how about I grab him a nice potato sack for a shirt. Would that work?”

“I just want him to be comfortable, Tony.” Steve sighed. “We’re just going to the park. Don’t make it a big deal.”

Tony emerged, carrying a pair of blue jeans. “Should we get food on the way over? Or eat before we leave?”

Steve did his best to gently insert the five wiggling toes into a sock. “Let’s have a picnic.”

Tony passed him the jeans, rolling his eyes. “In winter?”

“Hot chocolate, soup, rolls, cookies…” Steve listed, as he buttoned Peter’s shirt.

Tony smiled. “You just ate, like, half the kitchen.”

Steve grinned and elbowed Tony. “You helped.”

Laughing and chatting, they continued to dress Peter.

“I’ll get lunch.” Tony chuckled. “Jarvis? Hot Chocolate, soup-,”

“Potat _o_ soup.” Steve added.

“- _Potato_ soup, rolls, cookies-,” Tony continued.

“Shortbread cookies please, Jarvis.” Steve interrupted.

Tony rolled his eyes. “Anything else?”

“Nope, that’s good.” Steve zipped up the snowsuit. “Looks like we’re ready!”

Tony ran a hand through his messy hair. “Not me. I need…clothes.”

“Right. Me too, I guess.” Steve placed the snow-suit clad toddler back in the crib. “Back in a bit, Peter.”

Steve was back in less than 10 minutes, wearing jeans and a hoodie. He scooped Peter up and helped him eat some breakfast while they waited for Tony, who emerged half an hour later wearing a stylish black coat and gloves.

“Won’t you be cold?” He asked, taking Peter from Steve.

Steve smiled, pulling the zipper up to his chest. “Could be worse.”

They picked up the picnic basket at the kitchen, then headed down to the garage. Steve strolled past the row of fast, expensive cars, and opened the door to the minivan. It was, to be fair, in better condition than any other family car on the planet, but Tony still glanced sadly at the sports cars.

“Just this once?”

Steve slid the basket onto the seat. “The car seat is already in this one.” He opened the passenger side door and climbed in.

Tony buckled Peter into his car seat, then took his place in the front seat. “Ready?”

Steve nodded. “Ready.” He leaned over and gave Tony a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks again.”

Tony started the car, and they drove out into the winter wonderland. Peter giggled from the back seat. Steve reached his hand into the back, and the baby grabbed it. “Snow, Peter. Can you say ‘snow’?”

Peter gurgled, clutching the hand. “Papa!”

Steve chuckled. “Close enough.”

Tony smiled eyes on the snowy road. “Jarvis, where can I find a park?”

Jarvis’s voice came from the dashboard. “You own a park 2 miles from here.”

“How ‘bout that.” Tony smiled across at Steve. “Uh…Surprise! Happy…um…winter.”

“Thanks. Since you went to so much effort.” Steve grinned.

They were there in minutes. The road to the park was lined with tall evergreens, but the park itself was bright. Snow lay across a wide field, a group of picnic tables stood under more trees.

“I own this?” Tony wondered aloud as he parked the car.

“For five years, sir.” Jarvis confirmed.

The park was completely deserted, the thin layer of snow lay untouched. Steve grabbed the picnic basket, Tony picked Peter up.

“Where to?” Steve asked, glancing around.

Tony pointed to a spot in the middle of the field. “How about there?”

“Sure.”

The walk took only a few minutes. When they arrived, Steve dropped the basket on the ground and pulled out the insulated blanket from inside, laying it over the snow. “I feel like we should be sitting on a sled.”

Tony hoisted Peter on his hip. “I thought Peter was too little for sledding.”

“Not too little to sit on a sled.” Steve corrected.

Tony leaned down and sat Peter on the blanket. Peter giggled and squirmed, patting his mitten covered hands on the snow. “Da!”

Tony joined him on the blanket, and picked up a handful of the snow. He carefully patted it into a ball, then placed it in Peter’s lap. “Snow, Peter. Snow.”

Peter smacked his hands on the snowball, then tumbled forward. Tony caught him and scooped him up. “Careful, kiddo.”

“Should we make a snowman?” Steve asked, crouching down next to them.

Tony grinned, and sung a line from the movie frozen. “ _Do you wanna build a snowman?_ ”

Steve groaned. “Great. You ruined it.”

“At least you got the reference.” Tony chuckled. He sat Peter in the snow and positioned himself behind him, using Peter’s hands like a puppet. He scooped a handful of snow and helped Peter mold it into a ball. Peter sneezed.

Steve pulled out a Kleenex, looking worried. “Do you think he’s getting sick?”

Tony used the Kleenex to wipe the toddlers face. “He probably just inhaled a snowflake. He’ll be fine.”

“Okay.” Steve sighed, examining the toddler and laying a hand on his forehead. “You okay, kiddo?”

Peter responded by smashing the new snowball.

“Just like Uncle Bruce. Maybe we should give up on the snowman, for now.” Tony squeezed the tiny, cold fingers in his own.

“Good call.” Steve nodded. “I’m not really hungry yet-,”

Tony snorted. “That’s a first.”

Steve gave him a look. “I’m not really hungry yet, and Peter just ate. Maybe we could go for a walk? Enjoy the scenery?”

Tony lifted Peter to his shoulders. “Sure, okay. Someone’s going to have to watch the picnic basket.”

Steve sighed. “I guess that’ll be me.”

“Don’t pout.” Tony leaned in and gave him a kiss, while Peter mussed his parent’s hair. “You can practice reading on your phone. I downloaded you some old person books.”

“Thanks, that makes me feel so much better.” Steve chuckled, pulling out the device. “Hold on, let me get a picture.”

Tony stood up straight, holding up two fingers in a peace sign. Peter, atop his shoulders, reached down and grabbed his hand. Steve laughed, and took the picture.

“Have fun!” He called, switching to his reading app.

Tony headed out across the field. Snow had begun to fall again, thicker now. The field dropped lower, he scrambled down a slope, Peter gabbing away on his shoulder, getting sticky webs in his hair. Here the snow was slipperier. He extracted Peter from his hair and carried him on his hip instead. “Look at the snow Peter. Snow.”

Peter reached for the snowflakes. “Papa!”

Tony turned Peters face to his. “No, I’m Dada. Dada.” He repeated, hoping the toddler would catch on.

Suddenly, Peter began to cry. It wasn’t the sound he made when he was hungry, lonely, or needed changing. Tony couldn’t remember him making a sound like this before, not ever. As he screamed, his tiny hands clutched and grabbed at the back of his neck, as if something was hurting him there. Tony panicked, almost dropping Peter in his haste to remove the hood. But his neck seemed fine, no marks or bugs. Still, Peter wailed.

“Shhhh, shhh…Steve will think I can’t take care of you.” He soothed, rubbing the toddlers back. Peter screams almost drowned out the sound, the sound that made Tony’s blood run cold. It echoed across the field: The sound of cracking ice. At the same time, Tony heard a yell from far across the snow.

“Tony! That’s not a field!” Steve bellowed. “You’re on a lake!”

Tony felt faint, clutching the screaming toddler. The ground seemed to shift under his feet, he struggled to remain standing. Then he realized, with a fresh wave of terror, that the ground really was moving. Cracking into chunks. The ice was breaking.

 _What do I do, what do I do?_ His mind was blank. Peter screamed on.

“Lay down flat on the ice! On your belly!” Steve shouted. “I’ll get help!”

Numb with terror, he followed the instructions. He laid his belly on the ice, and swung Peter to his back. “Horsey time, kiddo!” His voice cracked with terror.

 Peter let out a wail, but clung to his daddy’s back. Tony began to inch slowly towards the shore. The ice shifted, he somehow managed to stay on top of it. The snow still billowed around them; the only sign of Steve was a dark outline. The silhouette was yelling, half cries of help into his phone, half calls of encouragement towards Tony and Peter.

Steve was now scrambling down the bank. He laid down as well, and began to inch towards Tony. The ice groaned under the weight of the super soldier.

“Stay where you are!” Tony cried, but his voice was lost in the swirling wind. Peter had stopped crying, and now lay whimpering on Tony’s back.

Steve seemed to sense that the ice wasn’t strong enough: He was staying close to shore. There was less than ten feet between them now. Steve reached desperately towards Tony, who continued to inch closer. Suddenly the piece of ice his belly was on rocked dangerously.

“Take Peter!” Tony bellowed. He pulled the toddler off his back and laid him, belly up, on the ice. He swiftly pulled the hood back on, to cushion the tiny skull, and slid him towards Steve. Even in the panicked situation, he couldn’t help but think _baby hockey_. Steve reached forward and snatched Peter up, then began to inch backwards, not far from safety. Tony followed, faster now, without the fear of dropping the baby.

Instead, the world dropped out from under him.

Ice cold was everywhere. He felt himself slipping beneath the surface and gasped for air. His lungs didn’t seem to be working very well. He clung to the ice, digging his gloved fingers into a fissure.

 _Never thought I’d die like this_.

And the icy water surrounded him.

Suddenly, arms closed around his chest. He was heaved upwards, back towards the light. Hacking and coughing, Tony was dragged to shore. He shivered uncontrollably, gasping for air, and choking. He was vaguely aware of towels being draped around him, of arms dragging him across the snowy grass and seating him in the minivan.

Hacking and coughing, he managed to splutter. “Peter!”

“He’s fine Tony, he’s with Clint.” Steve’s voice was reassuring, he watched Tony worriedly, rubbing his back.

The back of the van was roasting. Steve began to peel the wet clothes off of Tony, trying to warm him up.  Tony made a feeble attempt to help.

“Just sit still, Tony.” Steve soothed. “Get your breath back. Clint and Natasha showed up when I called for help, they’re taking Peter home. Bruce is on his way to the house; we’ll meet him there.”

Tony nodded, pulling on a fresh pair of sweats over his goose bump covered legs. Steve passed Tony a thick sweater. It hung off him, far too large. Steve shrugged apologetically. “Mine.”

Freshly clothed, Tony cuddled into Steve’s chest, his head against the super soldier’s shoulder. His breathing slowed as Steve hugged him close, rubbing a hand towel through Tony’s wet hair. “Don’t fall asleep, Babe.” He jostled Tony slightly.

Tony’s eyes fluttered, and he cuddled into Steve, muttering indistinctly.

“Wake up.” Steve repeated, softly but firmly, shaking him again. “Jarvis, take us to the mansion.” He ordered the car, then shook Tony again.

Tony stirred, opening his eyes. “Hey.” He murmured, smiling blurrily at Steve.

The tears that Steve had held back spilled down his cheeks.

“Next time, let’s go to Disneyland.” Tony grunted, shifting himself into a different position.

Tony’s head nodded again against Steve, threatening to doze off. Steve bounced his legs the way he did with Peter. Tony woke again.

“Teach me something. Explain some science.” He commanded, still bouncing his legs.

 Tony groaned, resorting to his fallback. He often used this speech to put Peter to sleep. “At the center of our solar system is the sun. It’s a huge ball of gas and-,” His mind began to fuzz with exhaustion, he continued. “Dust. The next planet is Mercury, first of the rocky planets-,”

Steve cut him off. “I know that one. One you have to think about.”

Tony blinked. One he had to think about? That could prove difficult.

“Say the lord’s prayer.” Steve suggested.

Tony sighed. He knew it; Steve had taught him. Still, he wasn’t quite sure, and hated to be wrong.

“Our father…” Steve prompted.

“Our father, which art in heaven…” Tony began. “…Hallowed be thy name.”

Jarvis interrupted. “We have reached the Stark-Rogers mansion, sir. Shall I open a door?”

Steve scooped Tony into his arms. “Sure. Please.” As soon as the door clicked and swung open, Steve lifted Tony out. They were in the garage next to the workshop.

Tony sniffed, his head again against Steve’s chest. “Um…thy…er…” His eyelids fluttered.

“Thy kingdom come.” Steve corrected, weaving his way through the workshop. “Thy will be done-,”

“On earth as it is in heaven.” Tony yawned.

Steve hurried up the stairs, taking them two at a time and making sure to jostle Tony around, keeping him awake.  “Give us this day, our daily bread-,”

Tony interrupted. “And forgive our trespasses. As we forgive those who trespass against us.”

In the kitchen, Steve hurried past Natasha, who was spooning baby food into a small bowl, presumably for Peter.

“And deliver us from evil.” Tony continued as Steve carried him onto the elevator. Tony seemed to be on a roll, Steve choose not to correct the fact that he skipped the ‘As we forgive those that trespass against us’ line.

“For thine is the kingdom.” Tony recited weakly. “The power and the glory.”

The elevator dinged, Steve hurried out.

“For ever and ever.”  Tony muttered.

“Amen.” Steve whispered, settling Tony onto the bed, now made up. He pulled the warm covers around him, then sat next to him on the bed, pulling him close. “Just keep awake till Bruce arrives, okay Babe?”

Tony nodded. “Where’s Peter? Jarvis, show me Peter.”

The huge screen clicked on, showing the nursery. Clint sat cross legged in the crib, Peter in his arms. In his other hand he held a Hawk-Eye doll of Peters. He was making it dance through the air. Peter, now clothed in a warm onesie, giggled and reached for it, blabbering in baby talk. The door opened, Natasha entered carrying the bowl of baby food.

Steve sighed with relief, Tony chuckled weakly. “Bird in his nest.” He mumbled.

“Bruce is on his way up, Sir.” Jarvis announced.

In less than a minute, they heard a knock on the door. “May I come in?” Came Bruce’s quite voice.

Steve sat up. “Sure.”

The door opened slowly, Bruce poked his head in, then entered fully. He hurried over to the bed and began to examine Tony for signs of frostbite and hypothermia. He glanced up at Steve.

“You might want to get out of your wet clothes.”

Steve had hardly noticed, but he got up and headed for the closet, then to the washroom. When he got back, Tony was propped up on pillows, sipping hot tea. Clint was perched on the arm of an armchair that had been pulled up to the bed, and Peter sat on seat, partially supported by Clint. Tony was chatting with Peter. He looked better, but his voice still sounded a bit weak.

“Did Uncle Clint and Auntie Tasha play with you?” Tony asked, in the same voice he would use to talk to Steve.

“Yah!” Peter gurgled, wiggling in his uncle’s grip. “Ant-ee Tasa! Unca Linp!”

Tony glanced up and smiled at Steve, who sat down on the bed. “You okay?”

Tony smiled. “Bruce says I should live.”

Steve nodded, turned to Peter. “What about you, kiddo?”

“Papa!” Peter squeaked, reaching for Steve, who scooped him up and hugged him tight.

Clint grinned, halfway to the door. “See ya.”

“Thanks!” Steve called as the door closed, leaving them alone.

Peter squirmed towards Tony, who put his tea on the side table and allowed Peter to climb up his chest. “What’s up, Squirt?”

Peter laid there, his chubby hands tracing the soft glow of the reactor. “Dada.” He mumbled, eye lids fluttering.

Steve put his arm around Tony, pulling them both close. “You _really_ okay?”

 “I was scared.” Tony shrugged.

Steve closed his eyes and pressed his face into Tony’s still slightly damp hair. “Me too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry, I know nothing about anything.  
> Also, this is kind of not that well edited :P  
> Sorry!


End file.
